


Please Do Not Touch

by PreciousRichard



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Exhibitionism, Exposure, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Restraints, Smut, captive audience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9570389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreciousRichard/pseuds/PreciousRichard
Summary: In which Sniper is a little tied up and Spy has a thing for showing off.





	

His mind was awake, but for a long time he couldn’t gather what was going on. It was pitch black when he opened his eyes, his body felt numb, and vague sensations pricked at his flesh. Whatever time he'd fallen asleep, he must have been exhausted to not even remember going to bed. He tried to move his arm, only to find that he couldn't. When it dawned upon him that his limbs were bound and he was sitting upright in a chair, he seized and pulled, grunting against the restraints. Instinctively he used his whole body to resist but nothing gave. His heart was quickly pumping more and more icy blood through him, and his lungs began to constrict. He was trapped, and he couldn't remember how or why. He panicked, he couldn't even see where he was, and there was no telling how long he had been sitting there. He tried to rock the seat, shifting his weight hazardously from side to side, but quickly found that whatever he was sitting in was bolted to the floor. He was truly snared, and whoever did it has clearly done it before.

Choked by his own laboring system, the Sniper called out with broken voice, "What's going on? Where am I?"

He sounded pathetic to his own ears, afraid and helpless. But that's what he was. He recalled why he was a hunter and not a trapper; finding memories of animals squirming and squealing in horrid agony as they tore at even their own limbs to escape. But Sniper was more familiar with danger and pain than any animal could ever comprehend, so he questioned why it frightened him now.

Footsteps quietly resounded from somewhere far away, and his labored breathing became loud in his own ears. They clicked in a strangely familiar way. He gasped when a door opened somewhere across from him and whoever it was slowed to a standstill in front of the chair. He jolted when the intruder reached up with a rustle of fabric and touched his head, and they had the nerve to huff amusedly through their nose. They untied the knot of the blindfold over Sniper's eyes, and the motion wafted a distinct scent into his nose. There was a present hint of flavored cigarettes and oaky cologne. In the instant that the fabric slipped away and he opened squinted eyes to the warm lighting, he nearly lunged at his captor.

"You-? You! What the fucking hell do you think you're bloody doing Spy?" Sniper snarled, overcome with a seething rage at seeing the BLU enemy Spy looking curiously at his face.

"Ah très bon! I was beginning to think you’d never regain consciousness." He smirked back, and Sniper wanted to strangle him.

He fought against his restraints again, his anger fueled every protest. But Spy merely stepped back, and took a dainty seat on a deep blue chaise lounge sofa that stood against the wall just to the sniper's right side. Near the singular arm rest of the seat was an end table with a lamp and stack of books. In front of the sofa was a coffee table with a closed briefcase on top, but luckily for Sniper it wasn't the RED intelligence, which both relieved and worried him. He continued to struggle, even as Spy calmly leaned back and lit a cigarette. He struggled even when the man took a novel and began reading it like he didn't have a man held hostage and tied up in a small windowless room.

Eventually Sniper found himself worn out, exhausted from his fruitless battle and kicking himself for getting angry and wasting all of his energy. He knew that was what his enemy must have wanted in the first place. After a long while of sitting limply, Sniper sighed and let his head fall. Spy looked up from his book with polite surprise and had the nerve to smile, damn him.

"Glad to see you've gotten that out of your system." Spy offered casually.

"What do you want with me?" Sniper asked, his chest heaving and his limbs aching.

"Don't worry Sniper, I don't plan to kill you." Spy assured him with an uncomfortable softness.

"You can torture me all you want you slimy, pompous piker, but I don't have any fuckin’ secrets t'spill." He spat, verbally and then physically onto the floor. 

Spy regarded the gesture with disgust as it splattered near the man’s boots, but straightened his tie and stood from the couch, setting his book back on the end table. He ambled over to face his captive and kneeled to level himself with him.

"No torture either, Bushman. Not this time." He grinned, patting him on the cheek. Sniper snapped his head over to bite at his gloved hand, but the blasted pinstriped ponce anticipated it and pulled away. "Uh uh uh-" Spy tutted with a waggle of a finger, "Bad dogs will be punished if they can't learn to behave." 

" _You're_ a bloody dog, wanka!" Sniper yelled, but Spy only chuckled at him. "Answer me! What’d’ya bloody want with me?”

"Oh please Bushman do hush up." Spy pouted, running his hand through the man's hair out of reach of his mouth. He tried to thrash his head to shake off the offending appendage but it only made Spy smile. "I don't ask for much." 

Sniper scowled, "You sick bastard. What are you planning?"

Spy's eyes suddenly changed, and something dark and greedy overcame them. Lazily they looked him right in the face and it made Sniper shudder. Whatever motives that hid behind that expression weren't normal, and something was instructing the sniper that he really should be trying to escape. Instead he froze, inadvertently inviting the other to take advantage.

Spy took both hands and slowly slid his fingers up along the sniper's jaw and cupped his wide-eyed face, "All you have to do is watch.” He whispered.

He stood then, and Sniper watched while he unbuttoned his jacket, slipping from it and tossing it on the coffee table. Then he removed his leathery gloves and vest. When he started loosening his tie, Sniper's heart sank. He slipped the loop over his head and tossed the silky fabric nonchalantly. He reached down, and Sniper followed every movement as he deftly unbuckled his belt. Sniper's stomach turned, and he realized all too clearly what was happening.

"You can't be serious." Sniper pleaded.

"I don't remember asking you to talk." Spy said calmly, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing it to the rest of his clothing. "If you can't keep quiet I will have to gag you, and I really don't want to do that, Bushman." He added sadly.

Sniper grit his teeth, and tried to fathom why the BLU spy was undressing in front of his worst enemy. He just wanted the sniper to watch, but every motion made him more uncomfortable and alert. He grimaced when the man began unbuttoning his shirt, casting glances at Sniper to make sure he still had his attention. When it came off, the Australian begrudgingly admitted to himself how fit and well sculpted the other was. He found himself examining out of curiosity, noticing scars scattered across his skin as he moved. For some reason or another, Spy had more scars than Sniper did. Spy smiled at him when he caught his analyzing eye, and ran his hands down his bare torso, sliding them lower and lower still until they toyed at the button and zipper of his pinstripe pants.

Sniper wasn't sure when his heartbeat had sped up, but he resented it. Luckily for him however, the scene wasn’t piquing his interest in the slightest- at least not how the other wanted it to. Spy seemed undeterred though, and gave a very satisfied look before turning fully around, and slowly sliding his pants down tightly against the curve of his backside, bending as the fabric fell away. Sniper made a disapproving groan, grimacing again when tight form fitting blue underwear revealed itself to him against the pale white of Spy's near-naked body.

"My God." Sniper gaped, "You're a bloody exhibitionist!" 

Spy turned when he stepped out of his pants, tossing them aside and smiling sinisterly, eyes wicked. "Ah he is catching on." He cooed.

Sniper looked down, and was horrified to find a growing erection under Spy's undergarment. "You think I'd  _enjoy_  this?" He gawked, disbelieving.

"Oh Bushman," Spy teased, "I don't care whether you enjoy it or not." Sniper looked into his eyes in shock, but Spy only chuckled deeply. "This isn't for you."

Sniper swallowed hard. He felt nauseas thinking that the arrogant pain in the ass he hated more than anyone else was using him and he couldn’t do anything about it. He snorted at the thought that Spy was so self obsessed. But still, he wasn't blind; he could see the man was handsome. Begrudgingly and reluctantly he understood why women seemed to flock to his bedroom. What confused him however was that he'd brought an unwilling man to his filthy little display. 

"Do you get off to making someone who hates you watch your dirty shows?" Sniper hissed.

He regretted asking when Spy languidly stepped toward him, bringing his hardening groin closer to the sniper's face. He got more of an eyeful than he'd ever need to. He could even smell the clean scent of soap emanating from his skin.

"Hate it or love it," Spy cooed, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his tight little pair of underpants, "I don't care. You just need to be watching." With that he slipped them down his thighs, and Sniper recoiled when his half hard cock sprung free before his eyes. He frowned harder when it was clear the man was fully waxed and there wasn't a hair to be seen. He'd never seen a man look so smooth and it caught him off guard. It must have been a European thing. He tried to look anywhere but his dick, but it was unfortunately always just to the side of his vision.

"I'll just close my eyes." Sniper sneered, "What'll ya do, tape em open?" 

He heard Spy give an amused huff, but he got no word of response. Instead the man walked away from him and he watched him sit gracefully on the sofa, fully nude save for his mask. He reached for the briefcase on the coffee table and flipped it open. Sniper eyed it warily; every nerve in his body was on high alert. His stomach dropped when the spy pulled out a bottle of clear liquid. He was undoubtedly only getting started. He then pulled a box of cigarettes from the case and placed one between his lips, lighting it and bellowing smoke all the while. He turned to Sniper, smiling with a wretched, filthy grin that made the Aussie want to punch him in the face and run. He struggled one last time against the ropes, and Spy chuckled at him before he gave in and slouched. Finally he shut his eyes.

"Ain't got a plan for me refusin' to watch have ya?" He jeered, lowering his head, "Maybe I'll just have us a nap."

He heard the sound of movement, and the pop of a cap on what he presumed to be the bottle. "Mm..." Spy hummed, "But you can still hear me no?" 

With that, Sniper heard slow, wet sounds before him, and the quiet murmurs of indulgence that Spy let slip unabashedly from his lips. Sniper clenched his jaw and fists, trying hard to think of anything but what the sounds most certainly were from. He thought of the sting of bullets, the explosion of blood and brain matter from the skulls of men in blue. But every thought, no matter how violent or grotesque, was interrupted by rhythmic noises of wet skin being stroked and toyed with. He wouldn't give in. He told himself it wasn't going to be interesting. He told himself that there was nothing sexy about a man jacking himself off. He pictured his version of Spy in place of who was in front of him now. He imagined the nasally laughter that drove Sniper up a damn wall, and the way his nostrils flared unflatteringly when he gave his smuggest smile. He tried desperately to create the ugliest, most obnoxious BLU spy he could think of- but in the midst of his efforts, he couldn't help hearing the shifting of weight, and a long, soft, wanting hum. He heard a different wetness then, one that almost sounded like the squelch of slippery suction. He flinched at the loud and desperate moan that accompanied it, smooth and carnal like a woman. His heart dropped when it struck him in the belly, and he steeled himself not to open his eyes.

He'd never heard a man moan like that. And once it started it didn't stop. He could hear Spy's limbs slowly dragging against the sofa, voice flowing like liquid and expressing nothing but pure unadulterated pleasure. He heard two types of movement- the stroking of his shaft, and the gentle thrust of... Sniper furrowed hard, wishing all of this away. Every aesthetically beautiful moan sent a stronger surge of sensation through his abdomen, and curiosity battled his will. He didn't want to believe that a man could feel as good as Spy sounded from having anything inside of him. He had never pinned Spy as the type to sleep with men, and never even considered it. But come to think of it, he realized he'd never considered anyone sleeping with men. He'd never even wondered how it must have felt. Now, with the sounds of wanton pleasure and something slipping in and out of Spy’s… He really wondered if he was faking the whole thing. It couldn't possibly be so good. 

Sniper swallowed and readied himself with the expectation of some horrible and unattractive scene, or the taunting laughter of having broken his will. He opened just one of his eyes, and there was Spy, face down and ass up on the chaise lounge sofa, cheek pressed into the soft material, and fingers holding a burning cigarette. His left arm reached back, past the dramatic dip in his spine, past the slim waist and over the curvy cheeks of his supple backside, dipping into the cleft of his ass, pushing in and pulling out with two fingers. He was moaning, lips red and mouth hanging open with a spread of color over the exposed parts of his face. A glimmering clear liquid dripped down his skin where his fingers penetrated him. He arched into every thrust, and drew his left knee up to spread himself wider. His cock and balls hung heavily between his legs and glistened with the same slick substance that flowed across his smooth skin. Sniper had now opened both eyes, seeing everything clearly. He felt a panic in his chest when his dick twitched enthusiastically in his pants. He couldn't look away now, the damage had been done. He stared with absolute interest at the fleshy pale skin and dramatic curvature of his body.

Spy tilted his head, taking a drag before moving his right arm –smoldering cigarette in hand- to grab and spread the cheeks of his ass. He plunged his fingers deeper, moaning and red in the face. His eyes were cloudy, wet, and practically black with lust. He wiggled his hips, grinding into the fingers that rubbed inside him. He teased the nerves until he was letting go of every inhibition inside himself. He was entertaining the sniper on purpose, and when their eyes met he flashed such a ruined and desperate smile that Sniper pulled unconsciously at his bindings as if to get closer- to see more. Spy bit his lip, panting through his nose as his eyes rolled back. Ecstasy and urgency switched back and forth on his face now, and somehow Sniper instinctively knew it was a face that was seeking more. Sniper chided himself; he couldn't understand why this was hot. He couldn't understand how Spy of all people on the face of the planet could look so tempting and sweet and needy and supple. He could smell soap and sweat and lube and  _sex_. He didn't know how, but he knew he was undoubtedly horny. He breathed deeper, feeling his underwear getting tight as his cock pulled against it. 

" _Oooh merde..."_ Spy panted quietly, never leaving Sniper's eyes, save for when he squeezed them shut hitting that bundle of nerves inside him just right, "Mm Bushman, you must like what you see after all." He said breathily, reaching up to place his cigarette between his lips and hold it there. 

Sniper growled, and pulled again at his restraints, "Shut up!" He snapped; face growing hot and eyes hazing over.

Spy turned his body and laid flat on his chest while his backside waved proudly in the air. Puffing on sweet tobacco he reached back with both hands, and with splayed fingers he spread himself open to the other man, dipping his spine and smiling warmly while his face pressed into the sofa.

"Mm I wouldn't suppose you'd want to know what it feels like to be inside?" Spy taunted, his hole twitching and puckering, deep pink, soaking wet and smooth.

Sniper grunted, fidgeting in his seat when he felt his pulse begin to fill his dick. "You like soundin' like a Sheila?" He bit back, telling himself it wasn’t dirty talk.

Spy laughed breathily, feeling up and down his hole, then tracing it and spreading it open with his fingers. "You want to hear me moan like a woman?" He panted, reaching around to stroke his shaft and thrust into his fist idly, "Because I would love to entertain the thought." 

He reached over to drop his cigarette, and righted himself on the sofa before reaching back into the briefcase. Sniper watched him with half-lidded eyes, contemplating what this meant for himself. He wondered if he had a thing for men that he'd never considered after all, and he wondered if he'd ever look at the spy the same way again. He wondered how on Earth someone as vile, self-indulgent and contemptuous as Spy could look so  _soft_  and  _tight_  and  _sexy_. He admitted it to himself then, with his pants feeling hot and wet, that if he weren't bound to that stupid chair, he'd be shagging his worst enemy like an animal in some undisclosed basement room. Somehow in the heat of his arousal, he was perfectly okay with that.

When Spy pulled out something long and blue, Sniper's mouth dropped at the realization that it was a sex toy. He bit his lip to hold back a small moan when he noticed it was just about the same size as himself. The color was distracting, but he imagined every touch to be upon his own needy cock, which was tenting his groin. He rutted up into nothing when Spy faced him and slowly pushed the tip into his mouth. He removed it and smiled wryly, earning and annoyed grunt from the Australian for being amused by his denied release. He slipped it back into his mouth, bobbing twice, and locked eyes as he lapped at the underside with a soft and sticky tongue. Sniper squirmed; he was beginning to get uncomfortably hard. Spy kept his eyes on Sniper just feet away from him, and excitedly poured a generous amount of lube from the bottle onto the plastic phallus. Sniper swallowed when he stroked at it, coating it in fluid that dripped messily all over his thighs and the floor. The man was surprisingly sloppy, and Sniper hated how much he loved it.

Spy lay on his back this time, propped up on an elbow. He stroked himself and moaned quietly at the touch, before taking hold of the slippery toy and spreading his thighs. He lifted his hips and braced one leg against the back of the couch, then brought the tip of the cock to his entrance and prodded at it teasingly.

"Feel free to imagine anything you like." Spy cooed sensually, and gently pressed forward.

He hummed quietly as it slipped inside, tip spreading him wider and wider, until the head slipped right in and he threw his head back with a quiet cry. Sniper flinched, thrusting his hips. He could feel precum soaking his underpants. Recovering from the intrusion, Spy pressed further in, and with each additional inch he moaned louder until the whole thing was seated inside him. He arched with a silent cry, muscles highly strung as the wave of pleasure seemed to rock him to his core. Sniper felt like he was going to explode. There was no faking the way Spy keened into the sensations he gave himself. Sniper suddenly found himself reasoning that there was nothing wrong with two men having sex if it felt as good as it looked. He reasoned with himself that it would feel no different to fuck Spy than it would to fuck any woman in the ass. But Spy was far from a woman, and yet every aspect of his display was irresistible and delicious. 

When Spy finally relaxed, he slid the dildo from himself slowly with a good deal of pulling and Sniper could only imagine how  _tight_  he must be inside. He licked his lips when Spy slowly pushed back in, and Sniper could have sworn he heard the hint of a whine escape his throat. Spy pulled the toy fully from himself and haphazardly slathered more lube onto it. Sniper thought it was the sleaziest thing he'd ever seen, and he adored it. Then Spy was pushing into himself again, and this time the whole shaft slid inside with ease, the generous liquid dripping down his ass and creating dark spots all over the cushion of the sofa. This time he whined openly. This time he was bracing harder and the muscles in his arms were rippling with the surging movements of pushing the blue toy inside of himself. He picked up speed, and every thrust pulled another whine and high pitched moan from his throat. Before long he was calling out, a short high-octave moan with almost every intrusion, separated with occasional lengthy and languid moans that drew his waist higher into the air. Sniper's eyes had clouded with the heat of arousal, but he could still hear every begging, feminine plea. He could still see the way Spy dropped flat on his back in a fit of passion to free his other hand, using it to stroke himself. He let go of the toy only to reach around and thrust into himself from behind with his hips high, and pleased his leaking cock with his freed fist.

This was nothing like the Spy he knew. This was practically a different person. And yet, something about this situation was so  _like_  him. Showing off and acting like he was the sexiest bastard in the world, taking every ounce of pleasure for himself and giving none, it all seemed like very "Spy" things to do. Sniper resented how wild it was driving him and his aching dick. He watched in awe as Spy's cries reached a crescendo, and soon after he was driving the toy as deep as it would go and streaks of white pumped from his swollen cock across his sweating, heaving chest. He mewled and groaned into his orgasm, body shaking and spasming, then slowly easing down to settle on the couch. He hummed as his body relaxed, toy twitching with the involuntary rippling of his inner muscles. He was finally finished, and limply rested, panting wildly.

Sniper was speechless. He felt like all he needed was a few simple strokes and he'd be cumming along after the spy. He felt heavy and winced at the wet patch on his pants. He couldn't remember the last time he was this horny. He wondered if he'd ever even been this horny.

"Spy..." He called weakly, "Spy please..." He felt heat bloom across his face in shame.

Spy lazily lifted his head, and implored him quizzically.

"Please... Untie me..." He croaked, "I gotta cum... Please." 

Spy grinned and Sniper frowned at it, "I'm afraid I can't risk untying you Bushman." 

Sniper nearly whined, he squirmed and groaned at the lack of friction. "I... I gotta cum." He panted, "I... I'm begging you."

Spy rested his head again, lifting his arm over his forehead for a short while. He slowly pulled the toy from his body with a happy moan and tossed it to the floor. He arched and stretched and ran his hands along himself with a satisfied sigh and a smile. Sniper watched him with pleading eyes until he finally stood and ambled toward him.

"I won't untie you," he cooed into his ear, "but since you were so well behaved, you're welcome to use my hand." 

With that he unzipped Sniper, who groaned loudly at even the slightest contact. His wet and pulsing cock sprung free, twitching with delight to be touched. Spy eyed it smugly and wrapped his hand around it, earning an open mouthed moan from his captive. Sniper felt the pleasure rip through him at the touch, but Spy didn't move. The Aussie searched his eyes, but realized that he was expecting him to fuck himself to completion in his fist. Humiliated and desperate, the sniper obliged, seeking any relief whatsoever. He thrust up against the restraints and slid his cock in and out of Spy's firm wet grip. Within just a few strokes of starting, he was screwing his eyes shut and cumming with a wail while hot white semen spilled over and covered the spy's knuckles. He cried out, overwhelmed with sensation, and his muscles pressed uncomfortably against every rope. When he came back down, he was panting, heaving even. He looked up to search Spy's face again, and found his proud and knowing expression made him shiver with some bizarre satisfaction. The spy released him and observed the semen on his hand before smearing it down the thigh of Sniper's pants. The Australian had closed his eyes again, somehow exhausted by climax alone. He must have drifted off for short while because when he awoke, Spy was stroking his cheek with a gloved hand, fully dressed and put together. There wasn't a hint of anything that had just transpired between them. Sniper looked at him, perplexed, and then looked down to find he hadn't moved or been untied. 

"When are you going to untie me?" He asked sleepily, noting how he had his breif case in hand. 

"I've already told you I won't be untying you." Spy said coolly, and patted his head like a dog.

"Wait-" The sniper struggled again, his pants had been zipped and his shirt properly tucked. "You aren't just leavin' me here are you?"

Spy smiled at him, "I have a note for your team with your location. They'll find you eventually." And with that, he turned and made for the door.

"Spy!" Sniper called, "Wait! Spy! Spy! You bastard! You utter bloody bastard! Spy you can't just leave me here!" He yelled as Spy waved at him before closing the door.

It would be only a few hours until the RED team found him. Then it would be many days until they stopped asking him what had happened. But it would be weeks until he was able to look the BLU spy in the eye again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a follow-up chapter in mind for this fic that I'd be willing to write if this chapter is well received, so let me know what you think!


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